Lasidious lowered across Sam’s body and kissed the king’s forehead before he took Sam’s hands and folded them across the top of Kael’s handle.
George and Shalee appeared outside the crate as Lasidious whispered to the weapon, “Kael, the moments are approaching to remind my brother of who he really is. Remember, you must do this in a subtle fashion, or Sam’s mind will crumble beneath the weight of his memories. Until we speak again, protect your master.”
Lasidious shut the lid to the coffin and then disappeared within an invisible veil as the door of the crate opened. The Mischievous One circled to the back side of the casket and watched Shalee step inside.
Shalee covered her mouth with both hands. Tears erupted from her eyes and streamed down her face. “Oh my goodness. I hate myself. This is all my fault.”
George entered the crate. Though he could not see Lasidious, the warlock winked at the emptiness beyond the coffin. George stepped forward and lifted the lid to the casket. Sam was lying inside with Boyafed’s dagger still in his side.
“Oh, my Lord,” Shalee said as she stopped next to the coffin. “How could Boyafed be so cruel? How could he just leave his dagger in him like that?” She reached in and tried to pull the blade out, but she was unable to. The sorceress tried to use her magic, but still, the dagger would not budge. She tried again and again, but no matter how hard she fought, the blade would not pry free. Eventually, she gave up and leaned over the side of the casket to kiss Sam on the lips.
As the queen pulled back, she looked at the sword. “Kael, what happened? Talk to me.”
The blade was unresponsive.
After a few moments of listening to Shalee beg the sword to communicate, George stepped out of the crate and remained quiet while the queen grieved. Wow ... she really did love the big ox, he thought. I bet she cares for him as much as Athena cares for me. She doesn’t deserve this, Lasidious.
It felt like forever before Shalee kissed Sam for the final moment. She turned away from the casket and announced, “I’m ready to leave.”
George walked back inside the crate, put his left hand on Shalee’s right shoulder and then teleported them back to the entrance of the Source’s cave. “I’m sorry for your loss, Shalee. I really am. Why don’t you come with me and meet Athena? She’ll take care of you for a while. You need a damn break.”
Shalee lowered to the ground. “I’d prefer to be alone. Isn’t there someplace else you could take me until the moment comes for us to go back to Brandor?”
George thought a moment. “I could take you to Floren. The innkeeper there is a fairly pleasant elf named Kebble. He’ll ensure everything you need is taken care of. I’ll make sure of it. Would that work?”
Shalee shrugged. “I suppose. I can’t think of any other place to go. I would go home, but I don’t think I’d be able to find a moment to myself. The people would be all over me. Not only would they want to comfort me, but I’d be the only monarch for the Senate to pester.”
George extended his hand to help the queen up. “Then it’s settled. I’ll take you to Floren.” He touched her shoulder again, and when they reappeared, they were standing outside Kebble’s Kettle. “Let me introduce you. You should be fine here until I return. I’ll be back in 8 Peaks.”
The queen nodded. “Thank you. But what about Sam’s passing?”
“Don’t worry about it. If you decide to witness the power of the one true god, I’ll be happy to take you to Brandor. If you’re worried about making it on time, don’t... You won’t have to sit in a crate or in your own garesh again. My god gives me the power to teleport between worlds. If you decide you really want to go, you’ll see your husband rise again. I can make that happen.”
As they walked through the swinging doors, Kebble’s smile widened when he saw George. He waddled over and hopped up onto his booster steps that were behind the counter. “Who would this beauty be, George?” He looked at Shalee. “How can Kebble help you on this fine Peak, my dear?” The elf lifted his pipe to his mouth and took a puff of his cherry-smelling tobacco.
Shalee’s voice sounded defeated. “I just need a room, please.”
George spoke up. “Kebble, this is the Queen of Southern Grayham. She has come to escape the pressures of life. Her ears have recently heard tragic news. Will you see to her safety, and ensure that she has everything she needs? I’ll pay you when I return.”
Kebble removed his pipe. A larger than life smile appeared on his face as he leaned across the counter to lift Shalee’s chin. “Any friend of George, is a friend of Kebble’s, My Lady. Kebble will see to it that you’re well cared for.” The short elf winked. “He has an affection for queens.”
Despite Shalee’s despair, all she could muster was a slight grin.
Marcus Id’s Dark Tower-palace
After leaving Shalee at Kebble’s inn, George teleported and appeared in Marcus’ throne room. As soon as Marcus saw the warlock, he rushed over to him. “You live! I was beginning to think the Eye had swallowed your soul.”
George nodded. “It’s good to see you, Marcus. Everything is going as planned. Have you accomplished what we discussed while I was gone?”
“It’s done, and more. The armies are rallying their forces. They will face each other on the Battlegrounds of Olis. Now you can send me to meet with the Source. I want to look into the Eye as soon as possible.”
George turned away and then moved to the window of the tower. As he looked at the gloomy sky, he responded, “You’ll have your chance to meet with the Source, but for now, there are two people going through the trials as we speak. Brayson has sent your brother to look into the Eye.”
Marcus’ face tightened. Rage filled his eyes as he threw his pipe across the room. The tobacco filling the bowl dispersed as the pipe shattered. “This is an outrage! Why would Brayson send Gregory when—”
George held up his hand and used his power to silence Marcus. “Does why really matter? I told you that you would look into the Eye ... and you will ... as soon as I can get you in. As promised, I’ll see to it that you’re the Head Master of Luvelles before I leave this world.”
George walked away from the window, moved up the steps leading to Marcus’ throne and took a seat. “Perhaps you should learn to control your anger. You need to find a way to make those around you enjoy your company, not despise you. What good will your magic be if no one respects you? I’ll let you know when the moment is right to stand before the Source. Until then, there’s something else I want you to do for me.”
George released his power so that Marcus could speak. “Am I to be your errand boy now?”
George had to smile.
“What’s so funny?” Marcus snapped.
George shook his head. “Look. This is a favor. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. It’s your loss if you don’t. This will only help me get you into the position you’ve always wanted quicker ... a position that we both know you deserve far more than Brayson. If you want to be the Head Master, then I need you to shut up and help. I want you to go to Southern Grayham and find a rat named Maldwin, and bring him to me.”
“A rat? What could you possibly want with a rat?” the Dark Chancellor contested.
“Just get him, Marcus. I don’t have the moments or the patience to explain. I’ll set everything up. The Merchant Angels will take you to Grayham three nights from now. I—”
Marcus cut George off. “Brayson will never allow me to leave Luvelles, nor will he allow a rat to return. Only Brayson can make the request to travel between worlds.”
George frowned. “You leave Brayson up to me. I’ll make sure you’re allowed to catch a ride with the angels. Your brother trusts me. The rat is important, and I need you in the Head Master’s position before I can move my family to Harvestom.”
“Why would you go to Harvestom?” Marcus queried.
“What do you care? It’s none of your business anyway.” The warlock paused. “Look, you’ll find the rat south of a cit
y called City View. He lives in a cave that sits near the edge of the Mountains of Latasef where the cliffs drop into the Ocean of Utopia.”
George tossed a rolled parchment across the room. “Use this scroll before you call the rat out of his cave. It’ll protect your mind if he gets scared. Once you’ve read it, you’ll have 2 Peaks to find him before the spell wears off and will no longer protect you. That should be sufficient.”
Marcus stopped George from continuing. After reading the scroll, he looked up. “Why do I need to protect my mind? Is this a power the rat possesses?”
“No. It’s not a power,” George replied to protect Maldwin. “The rat’s ability is natural. He has had this ability since birth. You won’t be able to eat his heart and steal the ability from him.”
Marcus smirked. “How do you know about such things? Eating the heart of another is a secret that only the most ancient of elves know.”
George shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. Everybody says that, but yet I know. And how I know is my business, just like everything else I do. I also know many other things that only the most ancient of the elves know. You won’t be able to surprise me at all, Marcus. So don’t even try.”
George stood from the throne. “Don’t forget to read the scroll before you call for the rat. When you see Maldwin, I want you to give him this note. It’s written in his language. Once his claw touches the parchment, it’ll speak to him.”
Marcus tilted his head as a dog would. “You cast a spell that makes the parchment speak? I’ve never thought of doing that.”
George laughed. “I know, huh. Doesn’t that just crack you up? I stole the idea from a movie I saw on Earth. You should’ve seen that sick flick. Their packages spoke when they were delivered to the kids. Since my home was destroyed, I’m sure they won’t mind me using their idea, will they?”
Marcus just stood in silence, looking at George with a blank stare. George had to chuckle at the Dark Chancellor’s confusion. “I imagine that when—”
Marcus held up his hand. “What will the note tell this Maldwin to do? I should know to ensure that I can complete the task. And how did you learn to speak the beast’s language?”
George took a deep breath. “Look, man, I don’t speak Ratanese. Somebody I know speaks it. I don’t have to tell you anything other than what’s necessary to get you into the Head Master’s position. Do you get my drift?”
George could see the agitation on Marcus’ face. “Look. Trust me. I can convince the rat to use his ability to get the people of Luvelles to accept you as their Head Master. You’re a prick. Someone has to help you, or you’ll fail miserably.”
The warlock extended his hand toward the wall. Marcus’ broken pipe lifted from the floor and flew across the room. After mending itself, the Dark Chancellor reached out and plucked it out of the air.
George smiled. “I could’ve ended you if I had wanted to. We both know it. So perhaps you should allow me to finish giving you what you want. Stop being an obstacle. Damn, Marcus! You can be an annoying bastard. Once you’re the Head Master, you’re going to have to chill out.”
“What does this ‘chill out’ mean?”
“It means you’re going to need to stop being such an asshole. If you don’t, the people are going to hate you even more than they do now. I can get you into the Head Master’s chair. I can even get them to accept your position, but I can’t make the people respect you once I’m gone. You’re going to have to do that on your own with the rat’s help. Why do you think your brother is so beloved? He doesn’t act like a piece of garesh like you do.”
Marcus tightened his fist around the stem of his pipe. “I see your point. I will try to do this chilling you’ve suggested.”
“Good. I imagine once Maldwin listens to the message, he’ll want to come. You’ll need to know how to shout his name when you’re calling for him. This is how you say his name in his language… Mal-a-quay-o.
“Once Maldwin finds you, I want you to ball your fist, then lift your thumb like this, and say, ‘Everything is A-okay, man.’ The rat will know I’ve sent you. He should listen to the note without objection. Got it?”
“I do. If going after this beast will—”
George vanished before Marcus could finish.
The chancellor’s eyes grew dark after watching the warlock disappear. “I’ll retrieve your rat, but your life’s source will be spilled after I’ve looked into the Eye.”
Meanwhile, the Village of Bestep
Christopher, Boyafed’s Argont Commander, looked across the bar inside Tygrus’ inn and admired the curves of the halfling woman who had served his ale. His long, pure-white hair fell across his shoulders, and his eyes were without a defined color, looking as if they were made of a fogged crystal.
Christopher’s voice was strong as he made an advance. “Girl! Do you have the moments to lie with an officer of the Order tonight?”
A much heavier voice replied from behind the bar as he walked out of the door that led into the kitchen. “My daughter isn’t a whore, Commander. I suggest you sow your seed elsewhere. Find a different vessel in which to place your manhood ... or I could just end you.”
Christopher lowered his mug to the bar and bowed his head. “You have my sincerest apologies, Lord Blaines. I had no idea.”
Tygrus nodded and then walked around the bar. He took a seat next to the Argont Commander. His brown eyes matched his long hair and carried within them a confidence that few men possessed. As Tygrus spun on his stool to face Christopher, he studied the much younger elf’s demeanor. “Relax, Commander.”
Tygrus had retired from his commission more than 60 seasons ago. Despite his retirement, he was still one of the most feared elves on Luvelles, and his magic was as strong as ever. He was the only elf who had served in the Order who Boyafed considered close to his equal when holding a blessed blade.
Tygrus slapped his hand on top of the bar, shouting at a human woman. “Wife, bring me my pipe.”
Tygrus’ wife was only 15 seasons old when her family visited Luvelles 30 seasons ago. After returning home, her father, a senator of Brandor, realized she was pregnant. After speaking with Brayson Id, it was agreed that she would return to Luvelles to spend the rest of her Peaks with Tygrus.
As the retired paladin watched his wife carry his pipe across the room, he motioned to Christopher. “What do you want, Commander?”
Christopher quickly swallowed his ale. “I’ve been ordered to request the presence of your mercenaries on the Battlegrounds of Olis.”
Tygrus took the pipe from his wife and then kissed the top of her hand. He bowed his head. “As always, my love, I cherish you.”
The woman smiled and walked away.
Tygrus lit his pipe. He took a drag and admired his wife’s beauty as she resumed her chores. He then turned and blew the smoke in Christopher’s direction and enjoyed the commander’s displeasure. “I hope you brought plenty of Yaloom. My mercenaries won’t be cheap ... even for Boyafed...”
The World of Trollcom
The Kingdom of Trotloss
Now, fellow soul ... Bailem, Owain, Lictina and Keylom were on Trollcom. Trollcom was a dark world, with an even darker way of life—but the story of this way of life would be best left for later—it is a story of an unexpected sacrifice.
Lictina and Owain planned to meet with the lizardians and the dwarves while Bailem and Keylom waited for the King of the Trolls to return from an evening outing with his fortieth queen. When Bailem and Keylom had first approached Kesdelain, the troll had been sitting on the riverbank of Greslowfem feeding his queen, Sholifenda, the brains of an enslaved dwarf. The trolls were waiting for the fish to strike at a special bait they had cast while using carved poles made of whipple wood—a wood that was known for its flexibility and durability.
Kesdelain was a mastermind at controlling the different races of trolls—thanks to the gifts given to him by Lasidious many seasons ago. As a result, all trolls served one king and hel
d Kesdelain in the highest regard.
Kesdelain was born of a dominant bloodline, a race of troll called the Tradesmeal, (Tra-des-meal) or when translated, Deadly Ones. His mother and father were nobles and had a strong set of family values—as strong as family values could be, considering they often ate their young for simple disobedience.
Kesdelain’s black and red-orange skin was vibrant. His features were considered handsome by troll standards. His blood was acidic, and it could burn through many forms of light armor. His ability to regenerate was much faster than other trolls, and this was a trait that was coveted throughout his kingdom. He was the first and only king to have the respect of every race of troll.
Kesdelain sauntered into his cave and made his way to the cavern that held his throne. The chamber was dark, except for the light that was cast by two torches that sat on either side of his throne. The wall on the south side of the cavern held back a body of water called Lake Shovain. Because of the moisture that seeped through the wall, the room was cold and carried a nip.
The torches flanking Kesdelain’s throne were not present because light was needed for the king to see. In fact, his eyes preferred the darkness. They were for shedding light on his majestic form, and the slaves who served him needed the light to perform their deeds.
Kesdelain knew who Bailem and Keylom were as he took a seat on his throne. He cared nothing about the gods and ignored their presence as he made himself comfortable. His service to Lasidious was given only because of the Mischievous One’s gifts, and in return, Kesdelain had agreed to decree that all trolls would live in service to Lasidious, and speak the Mischievous One’s name twice Peakly.
Now, fellow soul ... a new law was added to the Book of Immortality because of the Mischievous One’s manipulations. Lasidious’ act of generosity had given the god what he was ultimately after—more followers. His power increased substantially once the Troll King used the gifts to command his subjects to worship Lasidious.
The Eye of Luvelles Page 49
